Damned Snow Day
by call-me-Ami
Summary: Francis had always had a crush on Arthur, but none of this was supposed to happen. All this snow? And then that phone call and the wine... Yaoi-lemon. Cowritten with HalfDemonZahara
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: Me nor HDZ own Hetalia. Why? Because it's amazing and we are poor. That's why.**

**A/N: Based on a roleplay with my old friend HalfDemonZahara. There was **_**a lot**_** more going on, but I edited it for sake of basing the fanfic off these two characters. Anyway, these ideas are not entirely mind and neither of us have been to France nor Britain, so… Rawr. This will be a relatively short fanfiction, but it was too much info to be a one shot. So, without further delay, the amazing shonen-ai-ness. Yay!**

_Chapter One_

The cat festival, brought about by Italy, had been a big hit with the nations of the world. Even Alfred and Ludwig, whom had been tense with each other since WWII, where smiling with the other. Or, rather, laughing at each other's cat ears. Of course Alfred, having been best friends with Japan, had a much more elaborate set with matching ears, a tail, and over-sized neko paws. This got much of a laugh of most of the countries, especially when Alfred declared himself the hero of dropped something from his enormous paws.

Arthur, being Alfred's elder brother, was quite embarrassed. He furrowed his eyebrows when Alfred dropped yet another piece of cake onto the floor, to which, yet again, Ludwig called in his hounds to clean it up. It had gotten the the point were even the great hunting dogs were tired of cake. Sure, the first time he'd giggled a little, but now it was becoming ridiculous.

This is not what started the trouble, though. What did start the trouble was when Mattie, ignoring his elder English-speaking brothers, pulled out a laptop and logged onto the Internet. Immediately he went to the address bar and typed up the name of the ever famous video web sight that he'd fallen in love with recently. He was surprised when he was praised not once, but three times for playing music from his laptop. He smiled as each of his elder brothers and Francis came up and praised him in slightly different ways.

"Dude, awesome!" and a high-five and Mattie shyly gave to his middle brother with a shy smile.

"Good plan, little brother," and a ruffle through Mattie's soft hair as Arthur cooed softly.

"It really sets the mood," said Francis, as he patted Mattie easily on the shoulder. His smile was bright, but his voice seemed almost strained. Mattie payed it little mind, having liked being praised so much in one day.

Upon being encouraged as such, the country clicked related video after related video, music videos, fan made things and simple animations. Eventually the party died down. Ludwig was the first to leave, nearly dragging a saddened Italy with him as he left. Japan was next to follow, saying simply that he had things to do and that he could always go to a cat festival later in his own home. Other nations began to leave, too, much to the relief of those whom were hosting.

Though it was originally Italy's idea, Alfred was the first loud supporter. Having his little brother right next door, he was happy to volunteer his house as host for the festivities. By the time things had died down properly, there was only Alfred, Mattie, Arthur and Francis. Nobody dared leave Alfred (and his alien) alone for too long, especially not with cleaning or serious house work considering how destructive he could be. Mattie was quite leisurely and took on big, slow projects while Arthur concentrated on the smaller, more OCD-centered things, occasionally saying hello to Flying Mint Bunny or Uni the unicorn.

When, at long last, the worst of the messes seemed over, Arthur helped himself to the newly cleared sofa and rested his head easily on a cushion. Alfred took Toby to bed and, in his absence, the fat jokes started.

"I really worry about his health, sometimes," said Arthur softly, running fingers easily through his hair. Despite the brothers' teasing, they really were compassionate about the others' well beings.

"Pft," said Francis as Mattie clicked a new video on his laptop that he had returned to. "He's so fat, he sweats burger grease!"

The British Empire grimaced at the thought, but couldn't help but to give a little smile at the comment. He wondered how long it had taken Francis to come up with such a sentence, but quickly waved away the thought. "He really should exercise more, at the very least,"

"Has he tried the French method? We consider 'getting it on' a healthy and stimulating aerobic exercise and," but the nation never quite finished his thought as Arthur cut him off.

"Francis! That's my little brother, there!"

"Francis...?"

The older countries looked at Mattie in the corner with curiosity. From across the house they could hear Alfred coming down the stairs again.

"When... Was this?"

Francis shifted and moved over behind Mattie to see the video, almost immediately smiling. Alfred, feeling left out upon entering the room, rushed over to see what was going on. Francis half-heartedly pushed him away, but of course Alfred returned. Eventually even Arthur sighed and joined in the little group around the laptop.

Immediately a pair of girls' panties flashed across the screen. Francis was showing them off proudly to the camera, displaying the print of the British flag. On the back it clearly read in black letters, 'EUROPE'S BITCH.'

All heads turned to Arthur, who was blushing. Francis was chuckling. "Oh, that was a while ago" Francis said at last, but quickly turned his face back to the blondest nation with a bright smile and a wink. "But I still have them, Arthur, if you want them back."

"Keep them, they're not mine!" the country proclaimed with a slight hint of pride. "And really, I don't care who's they are!"

The two younger countries looked mortified as Francis continued to smirk. Mattie looked extremely bashful and changed videos, deleting his laptop's history as he did so. He wanted to shut the computer, but knew then that he would have to awkwardly go home and leave Alfred to the pair. Really, not even Mattie wanted to let his brothers fight.

"Oh, on the contrary," Francis said as he chuckled, pulling away from the laptop as he was no longer interested. As Arthur did the same, they were drawn towards the other in a face-to-face confrontation. "Who else would dare to wear them? Though, they are quite fashionable."

Arthur couldn't help but to blush a little, his checks turning a light shade of pink. "Maybe you would," the country jested, purposefully trying to poke some fun back at Francis. The two had never really gotten along too well, but there were no wars going on and Arthur had been a big help in liberating Francis from Ludwig during WWII. Since then, the two had gotten into far fewer fights. "After all, you've always been a rather weak nation,"

Francis laughed, making Alfred's stomach turn uncomfortably. "No, no. For a nation that knows everything like you claim, you're quite stupid. I would never be the bitch in that situation. Besides, those are not my style underwear,"

"Let me guess," Arthur said as a smile touched his lips. "A blue white and red thong?"

"Exactly, Angleterre,"

Silence filled the room, an awkward pause being drug out over the room until another nation entered, making the other four jump. They had been sure Russia had left the festivities long ago, but now he turned the corner as if wondering why it had gotten so quiet. "Er, I leave now, da?"

Arthur blushed a little, but said nothing. He fidgeted nervously when Russia made a beeline for him. He stuttered, but couldn't say anything.

Russia, of course, seemed unaware of the awkward tension in the room and the tension his presence was making. "Oh, I almost forgot. You summoned me from floor, we were friends now, Arthur, da?"

"Oh, yeah!" said Arthur as he stood a little taller, Russia backing away from him. He didn't think Russia would think much of being summoned from a Witch's Eye, but if they were friends, that meant no wars, right? Because really, he wouldn't know if he could bare being attacked by a country that covered six time zones. "Yes, Russia, we're friends now."

All four countries sighed with relief that Russia wasn't going to kill them, then again when he left the room. Arthur, in his shook, collapsed back on Alfred's sofa. His relaxation was quickly diverted when he felt Francis's eyes on him, though. "And what are you looking at?"

Francis looked very excited, an enthusiastic smile spread across his features. "You get to summon Russia? Angleterre, you get around more than I thought you did. I never would have thought you would come on top in such a situation..."

Arthur stared, confused. "Of course I get around!" This caused Francis to raise an eyebrow in curiosity. "I mean, I have cars and highways, right?"

"Angleterre," Francis said, his face falling a little in disappointment. "That's not what I meant and you know it."

Arthur blushed a little. Leave it to Francis to always draw unsanitary conclusions. The nation didn't have the heart, however, to disappoint Francis more by explaining the misunderstanding. Luckily, he turned from Arthur quickly and seemed to forget about the issue.

"On that note," said Mattie awkwardly, shutting his laptop and getting up to leave. "I think I'll be going to home feed my bear. And, Alfred? I'm right next door, you know,"

"Of course I know, I'm the hero!"

"I think I should be getting home, too, Alfred," Arthur said as he stood, and Francis nodded in agreement. Mattie was already home when Alfred, trying to be a good host for a few more moments, walked the other nations out and lead them down the lawn. He was turning back from the nations with his last good-byes, glad to be alone for a while now.

Francis and Arthur walked together for a while, glad of each other's company for the long walk back to Europe. Arthur sighed, glad to be away from his little brothers again. His relaxation, however, was quickly cut short by Francis again.

"Seriously, though," the nation said as he tossed his long hair over a shoulder. He reached into his pants pocket and withdrew a small British flag. "I keep them on me at all times for good luck," With this, Francis proceeded to show the other nation the panties that he held.

"You bloody wanker!" Arthur proclaimed as softly as he could. "I've only been to your house, like, twice, and I've already told you that I don't wear panties!"

Francis laughed, and Arthur had enough. With a snarl, he snatched the underwear and made to shove them back in Francis's pocket. He missed and instead of finding his hand, still clutching the panties, inside Francis's pocket, it was inside his pants.

"Oh," said Francis knowingly as he felt Arthur's hand brush against his nation's capitol. "Angleterre, you do get around a lot,"

Arthur recoiled and immediately withdrew, shaking his hand as if it would rid him of touching. He stared at his hand in horror. It didn't matter how small the touch was, the fact was that he'd touched it. God only knows what it had touched before and how it was on him.

"UNCLEAN!" Arthur proclaimed, holding his hand away from him as if to keep the touch at bay. With his 'clean' hand, he gripped his forearm is if to stop a disease from consuming more of hi body. "I've been touched, contaminated!"

"Jeez," said Francis, shifting a little. "It's just a penis. You have one, too, you know."

Alfred, upon having heard his brother's outburst from his lawn, had refused to let him come in side. He was contaminated, after all. Instead, the younger nation took Arthur aside and washed his hands with the water from his garden hose. Arthur, having not been satisfied with this, then proceeded to wash his arms, then his face chest... By the time the nation was satisfied with being clean, he was soaked to the bone. His clothes clinging to him for life, making them dreadfully uncomfortable. Of course, the hero being what he was, then refused his brother's entry because he was soaking wet and didn't want him dripping over anything after just cleaning up the house. Arthur, in all honestly, didn't blame Alfred for not letting him in. Alfred, in all honestly, didn't blame Arthur for washing off his entire body after brushing against Francis's capitol.

Arthur again began to walk towards Europe, muttering swears about Francis nearly all the way. Speaking of the devil, the pair ran into each other at the end of Alfred's lawn. As it turned out, the nation had pitied Arthur enough to wait for him. "I'm sorry, Angleterre,"

"Don't mention it." Arthur said as he turned to the other nation, fire hot in his green eyes. "Seriously, don't."

Francis couldn't help but to smile, but he quickly resumed his apology. "You know, we could get to my house faster than yours. You're welcome to come and wash up there." He gave Arthur a serious, but inquisitive look. "I would feel guilty if you walked all the way home like that."

Arthur mumbled a little, considering the thought. After a moment, he slightly changed to a more southern direction and muttered, "Fine. I'll wash up at your place, but I won't stay long."

"Of course not," Francis said, fidgeting a little as he began to lead the way to his estate.

**A/N: Angleterre is "England" in French. Do you know how long that took me to find? Anywho, there's chapter one. Stay tuned for shounen-ai goodness.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: At last, chapter two! Thanks again, HalfDemonZahara. Without you this wouldn't be nearly as good. Also thanks to iflipfordolphins, who's encouragement is almost always needed. In the first chapter alone this fanfiction received seven favorites. I'm very pleased, and as soon as I finish this one I think I'll have to start another Hetalia fanfiction. Thanks to everyone who gives their support in favorites, reviews, etc.**

_Chapter Two_

"The bathroom is right over here," said the longer haired nation as he lead Arthur into his home. He pointed as he named all the places. "The shower is there and the towels are behind that door, there. The hairdryer is under the sink, top drawer. I believe it's the only thing in there."

"Er," Arthur said, shifting his weight awkwardly as he stepped into Francis' bathroom. "Thanks, I suppose,"

"No problem. It's my pleasure to be a host sometimes," Francis said with a smile as the British Empire began to eye the shower. They nodded to each other and France turned away to start cooking supper while Arthur dried himself properly.

Arthur pressed his ear to the door to make sure the other nation was leaving, then jiggled the handle to make sure that the door was locked. Hoping that the blond country didn't have a master skeleton key or something, Arthur quickly stripped himself of his wet clothes. He felt much freer without them, glad that they were not able to hold him down anymore. He drew the shower curtain as quietly as he could before turning the water on, immediately glad of the change from damp cold to steamy heat. It was warm and easing on his skin, and he was glad that he had accepted the other nation's offer.

"Angleterre, do you want some food?"

"What?" Arthur asked, immediately horror struck as he heard the other's voice through the still closed door. He was running the hot water through his hair, which was clinging to the shape of the country's skull. For a while now it would be flat.

"Food. Do you want some?" Francis sounded almost disappointed.

Arthur, to defend what little honor he had left, knew he had to claim that he knew what food actually was. "I'm in the shower, you bloody git!"

"But if I cook it now, it will be ready for you when you are dry. That is," the blond's voice trailed a little. "Unless you are one of those people who takes forever in the shower, no, Angleterre?"

Arthur had nothing to say to that, so he just stuttered, "Uh, sure, France. ..."

He finished his cleansing as quickly as he could and snatched a towel to run it through his hair. He dried quickly, too, eventually wrapping the cloth around his middle as he ran fingers through his hair. Arthur couldn't help but to look at his reflection in the mirror with slight dismay. His hair always took a long time to dry, and he had only used a blow dryer once before. The nation's hair had been spiky for weeks on end. The nation reached for his clothes, quickly remembering all to well how soaked they were.

The British Empire slowly, shyly opened the door a crack. "Francis? Where's you room?"

He was in the kitchen, doing God only knows what in there. His voice betrayed his confusion as he peered around to the corner to look at the other. "Oh, right, you're clothes were wet, too, no? It's just down the hall, I go get some for you."

Arthur shifted as he waited in the room, loosing the comforting steam quickly. The room was much cooler by the time the other nation finally returned with a bag. "Here you are, Angleterre."

The other nation didn't dare take his eyes of the nation. The last time they were here together he had tried to force Arthur into a marriage, and he certainly wasn't going to let that happen again. He cautiously took the bag from France, not moving until he saw his grip lessen on the bag before totally letting go. Arthur waited patiently, as if a bomb were to go off before Francis cracked a wicked and knowing smile. "You can shut the door now, Angleterre."

The bathroom door immediately swung shut, and France laughed to himself as he walked back to the kitchen. He heard the door lock again as he strode away from it.

Britain tested the door again, but it didn't budge. With a slight sigh of relief, Arthur looked in the bag to see what stupid things the nation had brought him. To his surprise, the clothes were actually something Arthur wouldn't mind wearing. The pants were extra long and baggy, a black color that was intentionally faded in some random patches. There were many pockets, one of which Arther slipped his phone easily into. The shirt was tighter, riding up just a slight as it clearly displayed the name of a British rock band. The base was a red color, with gray and black patches.

"First my panties, now my bands... What's next?" Honestly, Arthur didn't want to know the answer, nor where France had gotten the clothes. Once dressed, he ran his fingers through his still wet hair and opened the door, making a bee line for the kitchen to see what his host was doing in there.

"Oh, Angleterre!" Francis proclaimed as the smaller nation entered the kitchen. "Just sit down, supper will be ready in but a moment or two,"

Arthur shifted a little awkwardly, seeing how elaborate and fantastic Francis' kitchen was. "Er... Is there anything you'd like me to do?"

The other country chuckled in his classic French way as if to cover up the fear in his voice. "Oh, ho, no, no, no... Angleterre, you don't have to worry about a thing here. Just go sit down, okay? Okay." Arthur opened his mouth to protest the order, but Francis quickly countered with a simple, "It's okay, Angleterre. I'm the host, after all."

To this, Arthur had no protest and sat down a little reluctantly at the large dinning room table in the next room over. Glancing over at the kitchen, he realized that there was an open bar and he could see some of what the chef was doing. The nation fidgeted and got a little more comfortable.

After a few short moments, Francis emerged from the kitchen, one forefinger extended. "Here, Angleterre," the blond said, offering the other nation his finger. It was coated in a bright cheese nearly down to the first segment. Upon seeing the United Kingdom's reluctance, France pushed a little further. "Common, try it!"

The smaller nation snarled at the jest and let out a little swear, wondering what the other was trying to do. When, after a brief moment, the older nation's stance dropped in disappointment, Arthur opened his mouth and closed it around the other's finger. The cheese was divine to the taste, celestial even, and Arthur found himself licking off the appendage in a search for more. After he'd swished his tongue around couple of times, he released his grip on a very stunned and very pleased France.

Francis smiled and asked the nation if it tasted fine, which provoked a quick and embarrassed nod. The chef returned to the kitchen, a delighted smile across his face. Neither nation said a word about it and neither of them cared to admit how much they each enjoyed the incident.

After a long silence that seemed to have drug on longer than it should have, Arthur stood slowly and walked into the kitchen. Not wanting to get in the cook's way while still observing his methods, the nation hoisted himself onto the counter and watched as Francis chopped up a mushroom. Arthur grabbed one of the pieces and examined it. "What is this?"

Francis smiled, rather quite amused. "That is a mushroom, Angleterre. You eat it."

Arthur blushed a slight so that pink lightly colored his cheeks. "Oh... I thought fungi were poisonous..."

"No," said Francis simply, as if educating a small child about advanced physics or something equally as complicated. "Only very few of them are bad for your health. Those," he gestured to the small piece in the kingdom's hand. "Those are harmless and you can bu them at a supermarket."

Arthur's tone betrayed his wonder. "Really?"

"Do you not trust me, Angleterre? That hurts me." There was silence, which worked fine for the chef. (He pretended not to notice Arthur toss the piece of mushroom lazily into the pot where it comrades had gone.) Arthur could blush and be quiet while Francis retrieved a bottle of wine, opened the bottle with care, and poured some in the pot with ease. After a short moment, he brought the bottle up and observed his dish. He glanced at the pot's continence, then back at the bottle and shrugged before adding more.

"What are you doing?" Arthur said as he eyed Francis close the bottle again. "Why add wine to the mix when we're going to drink it with the meal?"

The other nation almost laughed at Arthur's naive question. "This wine," he said, putting the bottle back into a cabinet. "Is for cooking. There are cooking wines and there are drinking ones. That one is for cooking."

Arthur blinked once, twice. "What?" He received only a sigh in response, so the nation decided to clarify his question a little. "What's the difference between them? Shouldn't they all be the same?"

This time Francis did laugh. He held up a finger and gestured it to the Arthur, motioning for him to wait. He threw a quick glance at the pot before bounding to the other side of the kitchen and opened what Arthur had thought had been a pantry door. As it turned out, it had actually held wine bottles upon wine bottles upon wine bottles with very few empty spaces. Arthur had a nagging suspicion that there was a method to what little madness he saw, but said nothing.

After a second or two, France returned with a smile on his face and a bottle in his hand. He put a finger on the cork, tested it, and with a force and practice that Arthur had never seen before, Francis simply pulled the cork out. The wine was upset at this, but did not fizz over nor bubble like other alcoholic drinks.

"No," the nation said at last in response to the last question. "Wine for cooking is crappy; you should never drink it. This," Francis said, holding up the bottle like a trophy. "This here is drinking wine!" He crossed the room with ease, flipping blond hair easily over a shoulder as he offered the bottle. He thought it safest to caution Arthur. "Don't have much; It's strong and we all know how bad you are at holding down your liquor."

France had never actually seen Arthur drunk, but didn't at all want to find out. Between seeing him hungover during the occasional world meeting and having heard the drinking stories from Alfred, Kiku and once even Ludwig, Francis wasn't anxious to join the numbers that saw the great British Empire drunk off his ass.

Arthur, however, just seemed a little more determined and took a sip of the wine after taking the entire bottle from Francis. The other nation smiled at this, so Arthur took another swig at the bottle before France snatched it away again. This time he took out a pair of large glasses expertly with one hand. The motion was so fluid that the kingdom shifted, feeling like Francis had done this too many times before.

Francis poured some of the drink into one glass, then filled the other practically to the brim. With his other hand he set the wine bottle down and quickly re-corked it as fast as his fingers would allow. Separating the glasses with a finger, he handed Arthur the one with considerably less substance in it. Arthur frowned and took a sip, but said nothing.

After a few moments, France spoke again. "Sit down, Angleterre. I'll serve you in just a minute."

Arthur bluntly ignored (and was oblivious to) the innuendo the other nation was implying, oblivious to it. Instead he scavenged the kitchen cabinets for plates and silverware. Once he'd found two complete sets, the nation took it upon himself to setting the table for the meal. Besides, it hurt to just sit around and do nothing. Luckily, he didn't have to wait long. As Francis had said, he returned in just a few moments with the large pot in his hand, some sort of big spooning-thing that Arthur could not identify in the other.

Regardless, the pair ate. Francis seemed at ease, as if this was just another meal to him. Arthur, on the other hand, stood upon the first bite. He held the spoon in his mouth, sucking it dry so that it was spotlessly clean when he took the silverware out of his mouth.

"Is... something wrong, Angleterre?" Francis said, going ridged a little as he saw the other's face.

The other nation just stared in wonder, then furrowed his eyebrows and pointed accusingly at Francis. Under his gaze, Arthur could feel the other nation squirming now and then as if he were very uncomfortable. "You." Arthur said in a determined voice. He was stern and very serious. "You will now cook for me. Every. Day."

Francis sighed and laughed with relief before gesturing for Arthur to regain his seat. The kingdom did not protest and instead savored every bite.

**A/N: There. Chapter two. Don't worry, chapter three is well in progress. *Taps forehead knowingly.* Please review. The purpose of writing fanfiction in to become a better writer. Thanks to everybody again.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I think I'm going to have to do another Hetalia fanfiction once I finish this one, but with a different pairing. I want to incorporate Russia/Ivan, I think, but... I'll think about it. Also, I'm being pressured into writing a lemon, which I've never done. It won't be this fanfiction, I don't think, but with Russia... Well, I might just have to there. Mu ah ha ha... Well, now, back to the Britain/Arthur and France/Francis goodness now.**

_Chapter Three_

"Funny," said Francis as he placed a plate in the dishwasher, lazily closing it most of the way as he looked out the window. "It was such a nice afternoon earlier,"

Arthur turned and followed the other nation's gaze as he slipped a coat on. His clothes, still uncomfortably damp, were now in a bag and the kingdom was unhappily shrugging on another garment France had lent him. He swore as he saw snow plainly falling from a dark and threatening sky. He couldn't help but to say to himself, "Damn you, Mattie, making it snow,"

Francis looked out the window, testing it to make sure that it was shut securely. "It's coming down pretty hard, Angleterre. Maybe you should wait it out? It cannot last too long,"

Arthur sighed and slipped off the coat, actually a little glad that he didn't have to breathe in Francis' cologne filled scent all the walk home, even if it wasn't too far. Besides, the nation made a reasonable point for once. Since it had been so nice earlier, how much could it really snow? It was still early spring, but the weather had been especially good. Especially at America's house.

"Fine," he murdered with a light shiver. Arthur loved the snow; it was light, beautiful and was absolutely stunning when it caught the light just right. However, this was not just snow. It became quickly apparent that this was going to be a full scale blizzard and it was going to be cold. Arthur had no room in his heart for cold, besides what he held for Francis in past wars. The only thing that the kingdom liked about the cold weather was that it meant that spring was on its way. Spring lead to summer, the best season of all due to all the warm weather.

"Angleterre," Francis said, breaking Arthur's chain of thought. He sounded a little offended. "Spending _one_ afternoon with me wouldn't be that bad, would it?" Upon seeing the kingdom's face, he stood and walked back into the kitchen. "Here, I'll make it up to you,"

Arthur said nothing, instead setting down the bag of his damp clothes next to the door. He shifted in Francis' clothes. The shirt was a little too tight so was occasionally slipping up, while the pants were just a little too large and had a tendency to slip down his hips just enough to show the top of his underwear. (This was the only thing of Arthur's that were dry, but he had rung them out several times in the sink and used the hairdryer on them. It was far too much effort to do so to the rest of his clothes.) Once again Arthur adjusted them, so that his belly wouldn't show through before finally following Francis.

Although Arthur was fairly confident in his cooking skills, he knew Francis was far better than he ever dreamed to be. This didn't really bother him, but it did annoy him when Francis took something out of his refrigerator that Arthur could not identify. The other nation seemed to be enjoying, taunting Arthur with the fact that Francis knew a great many things that Arthur did not. The nation had to swallow his pride to ask, "What are you doing, Francis?"

"I'm getting you some dessert," the nation said simply, cutting into the unidentifiable substance. Upon glancing over and seeing the Arthur's face, he clarified a little. "I made it the other day, but it wasn't ready to eat and... I had nobody worthy of mention to share it with."

Arthur rolled his eyes. Of course Francis didn't want to share the name of his lover the previous night, and honestly he didn't want to know. The republic was a womanizer, of that that was no doubt. Still, for some reason, his words nagged at Arthur's skull until his ears made a low drone noise. The sensation quickly went away as the kingdom asked, "So, I am worthy or are you just kissing my butt?"

Francis looked annoyed by the question as he cut another slice. "I kissed yours and Alfred's butt enough for World War II. Do you still consider me that unreliable, Angleterre?"

Arthur began to shift his weight from foot to foot, not quite sure how to respond. Finally, he decided that the truth was usually the best way to go. A little reluctantly he said, "I meant for the snow storm, you git. Not WWII."

The blonder nation seemed to relax a little at the comment, despite the language. "Ah, I see. Well," he said, returning to the dining room table with a plate in each hand. He sat one of them were Arthur had sat for supper, then other across from him so that they faced each other like they had before. "Come and have your cake, Angleterre."

Curious, the nation came over, sat down across from Francis, and cautiously picked up his fork. "I, er," Arthur stuttered as he felt a pair of blue eyes on him. The host was waiting for the guest to take the first bite, but Arthur felt hesitant. "I don't know, Francis," he said at last. Gesturing to himself and the clothes he wore, he finished with "It's just... You've already done so much for me. I couldn't possibly take more food."

"No," said Francis sternly, almost cutting Arthur short. "This is my treat to you. The rest was just hospitality, now I am being nice." He sighed, then, "If it makes you feel better, Angleterre, then I will swear on the pain of death that I will not tell a soul about this night. Okay? Okay,"

Even Arthur found this logic hard to question, so after a moment he picked up the fork and stared at the cake on his plate. It was a dark chocolate brown, almost black. Warmth emanated from it, making the kingdom wonder when France had had time to warm it up for them. This only further confirmed Arthur's suspicion that he was intruding on something Francis was not telling him.

After several silent moments, Arthur brought himself to say, "It's art."

"Qua?" The republic questioned, looking confused.

"It's a piece of art," Arthur repeated, looking at the cake that seemed far too worthy of just him. "I... I don't know if I could eat this, Francis."

The other nation sighed upon muttering something that that the English- speaking nation did not understand. Francis stuck his fork in his own cake and stuck the piece in his mouth. "See?" he said, once he had swallowed. "It's easy. Put your fork in it, scoop it up, and eat it!"

The kingdom couldn't help but to flinch at Francis' tone, so instead did what he was told. To his surprise, when he stuck his fork in the cake the cake began to bleed warm, oozing blood. Arthur, not daring to protest against Francis when he was in a bad mood, hesitated a little before sticking the piece in his mouth. He swirled his tongue around his fork to lick of the amazing blood of the cake. Loving it even more than his main course, he couldn't help but to quickly take another bite. Through a mouth full he said, "What is this?"

Francis spoke with a quick and agile pride, as if he had read the other's mind and was answering before he could even utter the question. "I hope you like it, Angleterre. It's a chocolate lava cake, and now I'm glad I made it when I did. I'm rather proud of the recipe myself, as it was my mother's father's mother's, but being a chef I had to make a few changes. For example, each slice it technically its own cake and they were just baked in the shape I want so that-"

"Francis, shut up. I don't care," Arthur said as he shoveled one more bite into his mouth, again quickly scraping his tongue against the prongs for the chocolate that oozed out. He quickly elaborated his comment. "Sorry, Francis, I'm not a chef. I honestly have no idea what the bloody Hell you're talking about."

"Ah," said France, by now also a good portion of the way through his slice. He gave a wan smile at the other nation, as if a little distracted by some distant thought that Arthur could not hope to reach. He gave a low chuckle. "I suppose that is true; I shouldn't have expected you to know so much about fine cooking right out of the blue,"

Arthur just looked confused, not to mention offended. "Fine cooking? ...Out of the blue?"

"Er," said Francis, realizing his own stupid error. "I just mean that you've never worked in my kitchen before; that and you've always hated me."

The darker haired nation winced. It was about at this moment when Arthur realized that France's house was indeed very large. More to himself, to hear another voice speak, Arthur simply said to confirm the observation, "Such a big, empty house..."

There was a pause, a still and dead air until Arthur finally brought himself to say, "I've never hated you Francis. But," he paused a little, and then finished his thought in an attempt to make eye contact with the down- turned republic. "I do pity you,"

Francis chuffed, as if he had been expecting that much, and made Arthur wince with an unseen pain again. "Everyone pities me. You're not the first, Angleterre,"

"No," the kingdom said without warning, this time cutting the other nation a little short of finishing voicing his thought. "I mean, you have no family."

There was a long pause and then, finally, "Qua?"

Arthur sighed, looking pointedly around the room itself. It was divine, with elaborate decorations and romantic lighting. The table had beautiful carvings along the mahogany edges with chairs to match and was large enough for a great many more than just two. The whole house was in similar fashion, and Arthur would not be surprised if it was more than twice as large as his own home. "There's nobody but you here," he said at last, finally returning his gaze to the other nation. "It's just you and whatever girl you bring for the night alone in this big empty house."

Francis didn't wince like he had before. Instead, he shrugged his shoulders and kept him there as if he would disappear into them. He blinked, and then fidgeted. He opened his mouth to speak, but then quickly shut it again. He had nothing to say, but luckily Arthur continued.

"I pity you, Francis, because you don't have any family to back you up or anything. I know that Mattie's very quiet and Alfred's well... But there's nobody here. It's just you," As if by pure chance, Arthur locked his emerald eyes with Francis' blue ones. "Don't ever think that I hate you,"

The other nation stood, taking his plate. By this time both were clean, so Francis was happy to take them back to the kitchen. He gave more than a wan smile to Arthur, as if to say 'thank you,' before returning quietly to the kitchen.

Arthur sighed with relief. There was silence now, but a sort of warm and soft one. It was not foreboding or evil, and as Arthur looked out the window even the snow seemed less threatening. A smile crept upon his face, too, as if a huge weight had just been lifted off of his shoulders. He interlaced his fingers and rested his chin on them, the cake still warming his body from the inside out. Maybe, he thought, just maybe he should come and visit Francis a little more. That is, so long as his economy wasn't going to pot.

Francis did not return to the table for quite some time, and Arthur had to assume that it didn't normally take a chef ten minutes to do the dishes. That would have been a new low, even for Francis. With a little sigh, Arthur rose from his seat at the table and looked about him, as if Francis would return right then and there. He was just about to leave the dining room when, as if on cue, Francis appeared in the doorway.

"Ah," said the republic upon seeing Arthur. "Come, I've turned up the heat so that we will not freeze in this foul weather. Come then, won't you, Angleterre?"

The kingdom just nodded, thinking it rude to object after all that Francis had already done for him. He decided then that, to make up for the other nation's hospitality, he would do whatever France asked of him. Well, anything within reason. He wasn't going to marry Francis anytime soon, that was for sure, but Arthur couldn't really think of anything else that he wouldn't do for the other at this point. He sighed a little and followed Francis.

Francis had led the other nation into his large den, which Arthur had only seen while passing it to get to other rooms. (In fact, if he we went down that hall and slipped into the first door, Arthur would be in the study in which Francis had tried to marry him.) The fireplace, extravagant in its own right, was lit ablaze. The flickering firelight lit up the whole room, so no other lights were used. The gold and silver decorations around the fireplace, including each of the large animals on either side, reflected the flickers at random angles to create an extremely romantic atmosphere.

Before the fireplace was a large bear skin, its hide having been properly washed and treated over the years. Francis sat upon it easily, gesturing for the kingdom to sit beside him. With just the slightest bit of hesitation, Arthur did so. He couldn't help but to notice the low table on Francis' other side. Several quilts and blankets, all folded perfectly, were top it to accompany the large bowl of cherries and strawberries.

Arthur couldn't help but to smile as Francis took one of the blankets from the table and draped it over the kingdom's shoulders. Everything here seemed so uptight, so perfect, that Arthur's first reaction was that his house wasn't nearly as nice. Then he realized that in his own home family was of utmost importance. Maybe tonight he would show Francis that not everything had to be extravagant, that, at least around Arthur, he could relax and laugh.

**A/N: Since writing this chapter I have discovered that Arthur, Matthew, Alfred, and Gilbert are all French names. Weird, right? Ah, France for the win, after losing so many wars... Thank HalfDemonZahara, as always. ~**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I'm consider making this hard core yaoi. I've already written most of it, but the question is if I keep this one rated T and make the other one a connected one-shot or if I bump this one's rating to M and make it a lemon. Please contact me on your opinions via PM, review or Email at (****). Thank you. Also, send love to my co-author HalfDemonZahara. 3 Oh, and yes, you are Prussia-worthy awesome if you understand all the sex jokes in this chapter.**

_Chapter Four_

"What are those?" The British Empire said accusingly as Francis popped a cherry into his mouth. He had handed the bowl over to the kingdom as best he could, still wrapped up in his own quilt. By this point they were both draped in a blanket of some description and the bowl of cherries and strawberries was sitting between them. Each time Francis had taken one in his mouth, Arthur noticed that he played with one part before removing from his mouth.

"It's a cherry, Angleterre," said Francis, taking out another stem which had been tied into a knot. He smiled, almost fondly at Arthur. "Don't tell me you've never tried one,"

"Er, no, I..." Arthur had no response, so, with Francis looking at him, he popped a cherry into his mouth.

"Be careful as to not eat the stem, Angleterre," Francis couldn't help but to chuckle upon seeing the other nation nearly gag.

"Why, what the bloody Hell?" Arthur coughed, ungracefully pulling the stem from his mouth. He stared at the thing in horror, not sure how something so sweet could be attached to something so sour. Remembering where he was, Arthur decided that had had very little dignity left and decided that, for once, he wouldn't care about his British pride. "What the bloody Hell do you do with them, then?"

Francis smiled warmly, very amused at Arthur's expression. He shifted in the blanket, positioning it a little higher on his shoulders so that he could take another cherry. He rested the fruit on his bottom lip and glanced a sideways look at the kingdom. "If you can tie the cherry's stem in a knot with your tongue, then it is said you are a good kisser," He chuckled then, deliberately slowly, placed the cherry in his mouth. After a minute, completely aware of Arthur's eyes on him, he stuck out his tongue with a tied cherry stem atop it. "Not every body can do it, of course,"

A new fire light the emerald eyes, one hotter than the fire. With new determination, Arthur grabbed another cherry and began to devour it. He ate it hurriedly, swallowing hard so that he could fondle the stem. When, after a few minutes, he produced the stem, it was very bent and almost broken in a couple of places. Arthur swore at it, making Francis chuckle as he furiously took another cherry. This time, Arthur produced a stem with a loose tie in the center, which he quickly pulled tight with his teeth and sucked on it a little to dry it before holding it victoriously to Francis.

"I could do better," Francis said, not helping but to wink at Arthur. "But they don't make cherry stems long enough,"

There was a silence in which Arthur had nothing to say back. He briefly wondered how many times he'd said those lines, how many women he'd laid with on the very fur. He blushed a little at the thought of Francis' bare skin touching his own, and couldn't help but to see Francis slowly devouring another cherry. "I don't see why something so sweet, a cherry, would be hiding behind something so long."

The republic shifted again, then made sure that the blanket ends were covering the front side of his hips. Luckily, the other nation seemed oblivious to the innuendo he'd just made. Maybe this was what he'd always liked about Arthur: even if he understood half the jokes he made, he certainly didn't care who heard them. Either way, Francis liked it.

"So," Arthur said after a little while. "What are those ones, then?" he asked, gesturing lazily too the bowl with his hand before slipping it back under the warm cover.

Francis smiled again, having Arthur just brightened up the evening again with his innocence. "These are strawberries, Angleterre. You can eat, them, too, just not the green part."

"Why?" And there was that innocent, sweet tone again, like a melody to Francis' ears.

"Those are the leaves. Here," Francis said, taking one and pulling the leaves carefully off the end. "They're rather bitter, but now you can have the whole thing,"

Arthur just stared dumbly as Francis held the end of the fruit out to him, as if expecting him to take it out of his fingers with his mouth. Arthur shoved away the foul thought, then finally reached out, plucked the strawberry with his fingers and put it in its own mouth. After chewing and slowly swallowing, savoring the taste, he said, "I like those better than cherries,"

Francis couldn't help but to smile a little. He finally chuckled warmly and pushed the bowl a little closer to Arthur saying simply, "You may have as many as you like, love."

Arthur ignored the comment and hastily took another strawberry, remembering to hold the leaves back while he ate it, then took every sweet bite very slowly. He was so glad for the savory feel of the juice slipped down his throat and continued to eat slowly. The nation was careful in his pace, reminding himself of the word strawberry over and over again as so he would remember to get some for himself later. Arthur cast a glance at the window, hoping that it would stop soon in case he forgot the word. "Francis?"

"Qua?" He blinked, not expecting to be addressed so suddenly.

The kingdom held up the leaves from the strawberry he'd just eaten with an almost frightened gaze. "Do I have to tie these in a knot, too?"

Francis almost laughed. "No, no, Angleterre," he said, gaining control of his snickers. He cast Arthur a little sideways glance. "I can already tell that you're a good kisser,"

Arthur just shrugged and reached for another. Francis couldn't help but to feel a little rejected.

"I know I'm going to sound like a pig," said Francis a little while after staring into the fire. "But I've still got the munchies."

Arthur blinked, looking at him curiously. "You're right. You do sound like a pig," he chuckled after a second. "But I'm a little hungry, too."

Francis couldn't help but to smile, relieved. He could tell, now that he looked, that the British Empire was starving. He should have known better. His food might have been much tastier, but his portions were quite smaller than most of the other nations' meals. Arthur was Alfred's elder brother, and Francis should have guessed how much the nation ate just by what his little brother did. He did raise Alfred, after all. Francis couldn't help but to feel a little guilty now that he realized this.

"I'll get something," Francis said as he stood, letting the blanket fall off of him. With this, the nation quickly wandered into the kitchen. He sighed once in, seeing that Arthur was not following. Francis couldn't help but to put a hand on his chest, wondering when the last time his heart was beating this fast, when he'd been so nervous.

As he went about looking for something light (and nonalcoholic) for the pair of either eat or drink, Francis sighed and began to sort out his thoughts. He knew that he had liked Arthur for a long time, but between them both being young male nations and the unlikelihood that the British Empire would return his admiration was slim, Francis had lost hope. Besides, it had been a silly jest, hadn't it?

Well forgetting what he was doing, Francis slipped quietly out of the kitchen and into his room. He couldn't bare his jeans much longer anyway, so quickly changed into his usual pajamas, cleaning up a bit as he remembered he had company. He slipped on long, soft pants over his boxers and slipped on his house coat, tying it closed around his waist as to cover his bare chest. Once he was more comfortable, he returned to the kitchen without Arthur even glancing in his direction. What a nice task, Francis thought, and finally opened up the freezer.

"Francis," Arthur said, just as the other nation was leaving the kitchen. "Oh... I figured you weren't coming back,"

The republic blinked, a little confused as he came and sat down next to the other. "No, no. I just went to change into more comfortable clothes. You can help yourself to my clothes, if you like."

Arthur twitched and looked at Francis, wondering just how much he was wearing. "No, thank you. Ah, awesome!" he proclaimed as the republic handed him a Popsicle.

"You know what these are, right, mon cher?" Francis said, purposefully stuck the whole thing in his mouth and running his tongue up and down it. Of course, to his disappointment, Arthur was oblivious.

Arthur blinked slowly, a little offended. "My little brother is America, you know. Alfred?" At this point he nation slipped the very tip into his mouth, sticking his tongue out a little so that the icy treat could rest on it. Saying around it with little difficulty, he added, "I really hope I know what a Popsicle is,"

Francis had nothing to say, and could only stare at Arthur. By this time the kingdom had returned his gaze peacefully to the fire, but the republic's gaze was locked on the way the Popsicle turned and slowly melted. A few times it dripped onto Arthur's hand or fingers, but he simply ignored the fact and ran the skin briefly across his tongue before quickly returning to the icy treat. Little by little, Arthur took more and more of the Popsicle into his mouth at a time.

The republic wanted to reach out, wanted to snatch the treat away and put Arthur's mouth someplace else, but quickly thought better of it. _Damn him, _Francis couldn't help but to think to himself. _He's doing it on purpose! That's not fair! _It did not take them at all very long to finish the melting treats, but once he had Arthur stuck as much as the stick as possible in his mouth and began to suck off whatever juice had been left on it. He was completely unaware of what he was doing to Francis, who immediately rose and started going to the kitchen again.

Arthur blinked, hoping that he hadn't offended the republic. Sure, they'd fought a lot in the past, but that was all behind them now, right? He shifted awkwardly, hearing Francis opening a pantry door. He stood and, after a moment, finally found the way to Francis' room. He realized that it was connected to practically every other room via one hall, so it was always easy to find. (Of course, it was Francis' house. The bed had to be easy to find.) He slipped in, sighing with relief when he didn't see anybody. He quietly began to raid Francis' drawers, surprised to see most of them empty, before opening the closet. He finally found a shelf for pajama bottoms and took a pair for himself, changing quickly as he could. He then took the clothes he had been wearing, glad to be out of them, and folded them neatly before placing them atop an empty dresser top for France to clean later.

Francis was still in the kitchen when Arthur slipped back onto the rug. He paused and was about to slip the quilt back over his shoulders when he sighed and stood up again, wondering what had been taking Francis so long. "Francis?"

"Angleterre," the nation said as he noticed the kingdom. He smiled broadly, liking the sight of the other's bare chest and middle. "Ah, glad you changed. I want you to be comfortable." He paused, then grabbed a bag of something, and began to lead the Brit back towards the large fireplace. "I'm actually a little surprised that you haven't asked me where I got the clothes you wore before,"

Arthur shifted his weight, having completely forgotten about whatever was in Francis' hand. "Er... Actually, I was a little afraid of what the answer might be,"

"What?" Francis blinked with a chuckle. "Am I not allowed to like punk rock? Besides, I did need s_omething_ to wear to the concert. And no, before you think that, I didn't just go to pick up girls."

The kingdom blinked a little, not completely believing him. As he slid back into his place he smiled warmly and finally said, "Sure, Francis. I'm going to pretend like I believe you,"

"Believe what you want," Francis said, relaxing as he, too, slid his own blanket and brought out the bag. He opened it with a crinkle of the wrapping and withdrew a fluffy white puff. "I just know that I'm going to have to show you how to roast marsh-mellows now,"

**A/N: Ah, Francis and your oral fixation. Really, would you be surprised? He **_**is**_** French, after all. Kinda weird that I wrote most of this chapter while watching Wolf's Rain, which is very depressing and probably my favorite anime. Anyway, I will most likely up the rating on this one up to an M rating and, if I do, the next chapter will be lemon, I believe. ;D**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I wasn't going to turn this into a lemon, but I was reading a PrussiaXRussia fanfiction and was rather repulsed by the sex scene that I had to write some hard core yaoi just to prove to myself (and HalfDemonZahara) that I was a FAR better writer than that. Immediately I started writing this. It's my very first lemon, so don't be hating. It's a little embarrassing, honestly, to think I actually wrote one...**

**Inspired by the role-play with HalfDemonZahara**

**WARNING: Yaoi lemon: boy on boy hard core love. Don't like, don't read.**

_Chapter Five_

"I've had marsh-mellows before, Francis," Arthur said simply, a little curious. "Alfred gave me some while we where camping a while ago. I thought that they where black, though,"

Francis chuckled warmly, almost choking on the marsh-mellow in his mouth. "No, no, Angleterre. They are white and you roast them until they are gold or light brown. See," the nation said, swallowing what was in his mouth and taking another from the bag. He pulled out a long stick that was perfectly smooth, except for the end which was thin and pointed. Francis had six of these sticks (four were still in the kitchen), all used only for marsh-mellow roasting on group dates. "You put one on the end of the stick, Angleterre, and then you just hold it over the fire,"

Arthur blinked, a little confused. A little cautiously he reached out and took the second stick and placed a marsh-mellow on the end. He stared at it a little, amazed that the goo didn't come off on the sick. The nation quickly realized that this was because the surface was smooth. With his little brother, they had just taken sticks off the ground. He looked at Francis, who was easily holding his own marsh-mellow over the fireplace. Arthur mimicked him.

"Angleterre, you're going to burn it," the older nation said after a minute. He pulled his stick out from over the warmth of the fire and set the stick gently on the low table beside him. Then he reached over, took the Empire's hand in his own and slowly turned it over so that his marsh-mellow would brown on the other side.

The kingdom was in awe. The fact that Francis was touching him was rather forgotten, as his eyes were on the golden brown side of the marsh-mellow he held over the fire. After a second he said, "I didn't know you had to flip something over when you cooked it,"

Francis smiled, almost chuckling as he picked up his own marsh-mellow and placed it next to Arthur's over the fire. "It's fun to flip other things over, too, Angleterre, but I'll save that for a little later."

The kingdom just looked a little confused at the comment, so said nothing in turn. He ate his marsh-mellow with little hesitance, then made a face that Francis couldn't immediately recognize. Arthur pondered the taste, then said simply, "I think I like them raw better."

The republic smiled as he withdrew his own marsh-mellow from the fire. Before he could take it off the stick, he was surprised that Arthur simply grabbed it and put it in his own mouth. Francis briefly wondered if he should be annoyed by this, but was then mentally reminded of how horrid British food was and decided that it should be a complement. Besides, he'd liked Arthur this long, and it was unlikely that he would ever stop him from taking his food.

"Yeah," said the Brit upon finishing Francis' marsh-mellow. "I like them better raw,"

Francis didn't even wait for the kingdom to finish his thought when he took another marsh-mellow from the bag and placed it seductively between his teeth. He blinked slowly, looking pointedly at the Brit's mouth. He didn't expect the other nation to act upon this, so nearly choked when he did.

Arthur had decided that it wasn't fair to let Francis have all the raw marsh-mellows, so he simply reached in and took the marsh-mellow. He leaned his mouth close into Francis' and snaked his tongue out to wrap around the treat and pull it into the kingdom's own mouth before Francis could even move. Francis decided then that it was time to break out the charm with his little crush. With a little shake in his hand, he took another and put that one a little further in his mouth after he cooed, "Would you like another, Angleterre?"

The Brit frowned at Francis' display and instead took another marsh-mellow from the bag. Arthur was oblivious to the other nation's disappointment.

"I didn't know that something this... That..." Arthur stuttered as he took another marsh-mellow from the bag. Francis had continued to roast his own marsh-mellows, occasionally loosing one to Arthur when he took them off Francis' stick. He was setting another in her mouth, thinking about his words a little more. This only made Francis chuckle. At last, Arthur found his words. "I'm surprised that something like this white goo is so tasty,"

"Excuse me a moment, Angleterre," Francis said as he quickly stood, covering his face with his hand to catch the blood that was spewing from his nose. He went to the nearest bathroom as quickly as possible and shut the door before starting to wash himself up. He was just getting control of the blood when he realized that Arthur had showered here not too long ago and that even Arthur had to shower naked. Needless to say that it took several minutes to clean up the blood.

"Did you know," said Arthur, once Francis had reappeared again. "That these things get really sticky when they're hot?"

There was silence for a moment. "Excuse me again, please,"

Arthur blinked in confusion. Francis was usually far more open about what he was doing, but now he was being rather secretive. What was he doing wrong, what had happened that was making Francis act so weird? Well, weird for the republic anyway. Arthur shifted his weight a little and glanced out the window. It still cast a blue-white light that was strangely comforting against the blaze of the fire. Still, without the other nation for company, Arthur seemed rather cold. "Francis?"

There was no answer, but the republic reappeared shortly after. "Yes, Angleterre?"

By this time the kingdom had stood. "I was... just wondering what was taking you so long, is all."

Francis smiled warmly, understanding. "Did you get lonely without me, mon cher?"

"Of course not!" Arthur said all to quickly to be believable. That adorable blush, Francis thought, wasn't helping his case either. "I just... Got cold... That's all..."

This was when the other nation gestured over to the fire. He couldn't help but to chuckle when Arthur bluntly ignored this fact and took the republic's hand in his. The two then made it back over to the fire where they sat easily. Before Arthur could get too comfortable, Francis said, "If you're cold, there are things we can do to keep you warm. Hot, even,"

Arthur blinked, not understanding. His 'oh-so-innocent' look only made Francis' pants a little tighter. He couldn't hold it any longer so, without hesitation, he kissed the kingdom. Much to Francis' surprise, Arthur kissed him back.

Francis had been waiting for this for too long, but kissed the kingdom as tenderly as possible. He couldn't help but to notice the other nation shift his legs open, allowing Francis to kiss harder. Heat began to flood from one, then the other, then back so many times that the heat was too exhilarating. Francis released his grip on the kingdom's sides and pulled away a little.

Arthur gasped for air, taking advantage of the pair's temporary distance. This was about the time when he, too, noticed the crazy heat which, to his surprise, did not fade when Francis pulled a little away. He shuddered with delight when he realized that the republic was undressing him. Arthur, all to anxious to join the fun, immediately raised his hands and began to pull the layers off of Francis.

The pair kissed when both were shirtless, their chests lightly touching each other's. As Arthur kissed Francis back, not lightly, he started tracing patterns on the other's skin, curious. He couldn't help but to noticed how toned that Francis was, especially when each of his muscles moved under the kingdom's fingertips. Here Arthur slipped his hands down to Francis' pants and began to fidget with the button at the top, which popped open with ease.

Again the pair broke for air, Francis smiling wickedly. He then kissed Arthur briefly to tease him a little before pulling away and sitting up do start undoing Arthur's own pants. Once this task was accomplished, Francis laced his practiced fingers in the kingdom's panties and yanked both layers sharply off of him. Arthur blushed brightly at his clothing, or lack there of. Francis couldn't help but to chuckle as he skillfully slipped his own off, too. As Francis leaned in again, he kissed Arthur while lightly and intentionally brushing a hand against his member to make it twitch.

Arthur groaned under the weight of the kiss and lifted his hips, wanting more of the sweet contact. Francis smiled and kissed him more, not being able to help but to brush his length again. This time, the republic held it in his hands. He cradled his lover's member gently, rubbing his fingers up and down in slow, fluid motions. On occasion he would tease the head, but did not dare to linger there too long. After a few heated minutes of this, each nation growing more and more excited with each passing second, Francis shifted and positioned himself between Arthur's open legs.

The kingdom's entrance was easy to find, much to France's delight and surprise, and kissed Arthur again.

"W-wait," said Arthur suddenly as he pulled out of another kiss. He blushed a little. Though the color in his face had gone before, pink was now coating them. "Can... can two guys... do this?"

Francis just smiled and leaned his body closer to his lover's so that as much skin touched as possible, much to both of their arousal. "I am French," he said simply before planting a delicate kiss on the other nation. He couldn't help but to stray from his lips a little in his excitement. "I'll always find a way to make l'amour,"

There was another kiss, this one deep and long. When Francis pulled away for breath again, Arthur showed no signs of protesting. Instead, as if sensing that he was asking permission, the kingdom let out a little sigh and nodded. Francis smiled, relieved that he wasn't going to back out now. Without another word, Francis pushed himself inside.

Arthur gasped, taking a sharp intake of air that quickly filled his lungs and made his chest swell. He had never felt more pain than that of Francis pushing his erect length into his body, and eventually let out a moan that seemed to echo soundlessly about the room. He gripped the hide below him, but it offered little friction for his fingers. When Francis continued to push in, making Arthur moan a little louder, he raised his hands and interlaced his fingers in Francis' blond hair.

At last, Francis had reached the end. The pair were one, connected. Both were terribly excited and, Arthur especially, was breathing hard. Francis couldn't help but to lean down and kiss his love again, well aware of how aroused they both were. He was delighted in two places, including his lips, when Arthur kissed back between delighted sighs. The republic smiled knowingly as he prepared himself for the part that came next.

There was not much time to pass before Arthur raised his hips a little, quickly lowering them again as he winced in pain from Francis' depth. In anticipation, he held what he could of his lover's hair a little tighter.

Francis pulled most of the way out, leaving just the head, and took note of the kingdom relaxing on what one could call instinct. Almost immediately his own body corresponded, hardening inside of Arthur's body. He'd done this many times before and waited for the perfect moment. Just when Arthur's eyes began to flutter in peace, Francis pushed himself back in. He lingered in the depth a moment, letting Arthur's moan ring in his ears before pulling out most of the way again. This time he didn't wait nearly as long and pushed in again. Then out, in, out, in until he found a steady and unbreakable rhythm.

Arthur didn't care how loud his noises were, nor who heard them. Each time he was penetrated, he had to let Francis, his lover, know that he liked it. Then, after just a few minutes, a new pleasure was found. The pain had long since given way, but this was new. Before Francis had even properly pulled away from the spot he'd just hit, Arthur called, "THERE! Right there!"

Francis just smiled a little, quickly shifting his hips just a little to hit the sweet spot again. He missed once, but it became quickly apparent that he was hitting the place with better and better accuracy. Giving into temptation, Francis set a hand on Arthur's member without loosing his stokes. It was already as full as possible, so he began to stroke his lover's length. Despite the temptation to taste Arthur's member, he quickened his touches as to move so that he stroked in time with his thrusts.

This quickly sent Arthur over the edge. Between his sweet spot being repeatedly hit hard and his length being groped, his world flashed hot white as he pushed his hips up again and came in Francis' hand. The thick liquid also shot up to his lover's body, but he honestly didn't care. This was all that mattered, in the entire world.

Francis came shortly after, filling Arthur with his seed. He reached down and kissed his lover passionately as he slowly pulled out, immediately missing the contact and warmth that Arthur had provided. They both pulled away after a short while to breathe, both bathing in the warm afterglow. Neither had anything to say, as 'I love you' was exchanged through tired eyes and loving glances.

There were several moments of rest, each breathing heavily and lightly kissing the other nation before Francis finally realized that they were covered in cum. He chuckled and slowly stood up, offering his hand. A little to his surprise, Arthur took his hand and followed.

The British Empire was too tired to protest, so he simply let his lover take him with ease to the master bathroom. It was large and beautiful, but for once Arthur did not care for the details. He blinked sleepily as Francis leaned him against a wall wile he started the water. Within moments, both were showering. For the first time they gazed at each other's naked body. Each nation liked what they saw, so each simply gazed at the other in longing and pride. They both new that they belonged to each other.

Arthur sighed contently after a while, putting himself into Francis' warm embrace. He thought of several things to say, quickly regaining strength. At last, the nation looked up into Francis' face, then looked pointedly downwards. Just for the sake of teasing, Arthur murmured just loud enough to hear, "I wonder what it tastes like...?"

There was a short silence, each nation listening to the other's breathing and the echo of water as it dripped off their bodies. Francis took one hand and lifted Arthur's face to kiss him lightly. Before Arthur could protest, Francis put his lips to his lover's ear and kissed before whispering, "Do you want to go again?"

**A/N: Oh, Francis, you dirty dog. Well, there's my first lemon. Yay~! Reviews and vodka (or wine, in this case) are food for an author's soul, so please donate both. Yaoi l'amour for all!**


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